


Ink Demonth 2020 Poetry Collection

by inkabelle_designs



Category: BATDR - Fandom, BATDS - Fandom, BINR - Fandom, Batim - Fandom, Bendy and the Ink Machine, bendy - Fandom
Genre: BATDR, BATDS, BATIM, BINR, Ink Demonth, Poetry, bendy - Freeform, bendy poetry, poem
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:47:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25693033
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inkabelle_designs/pseuds/inkabelle_designs
Summary: Ink Demonth is an annual challenge run by beloved BATIM fan creator Halfusek (https://halfusek.tumblr.com/post/622464380803629056/something-inky-this-way-comes-the-ink-demonth). For 31 days, Bendy fans are encouraged to create fanworks inspired by the prompt list. This collection of poems is created for this challenge.A lost one known simply as "the Poet" has been running around, recording poetry for all who care to hear. They're twisted and have a questionable sense of humor, but be it singing songs to their Lord or telling stories, they're using their voice to spread a chaotic assortment of rhythms and rhymes.
Kudos: 2





	1. Poem 1: Cake

**Author's Note:**

> Want to hear the audio to goes with this? Here's a link to this poem on Tumblr and YouTube (now with closed captioning)!
> 
> Tumblr: https://inkabelledesigns.tumblr.com/post/625307909676531712/you-didnt-think-id-miss-out-on-ink-demonth-did  
> YouTube: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0m2tPPs-vbo 
> 
> Please let me know if you think any trigger warnings apply so I can add them here!

The Culprit of the Cake Awaits

By: Kat Alyst

Be it late in the night, 

Or the hour you wake, 

Nothing quite beats the flavor of cake. 

Strawberry or vanilla,

Cheesecake on the villa, 

Even shared with a chinchilla,

Makes no difference to most folks.

But the decadence of chocolate dreams,

Makes the grouchiest frown turn to beam,

Oh yes, everyone here simply adores

That chocolate cake. 

Sneaking in the office, 

Late at night,

There was just one soul roaming about,

He didn’t holler, 

Nor would he scream or shout.

Just a subtle little sweeping,

A rag dusting here or there,

Did that inky puddle move?

It couldn’t have, I swear!

Just clean up the mess,

No need to second guess,

Why that beautiful dessert sits there,

Smelling glorious tonight.

No one will mind,

If I snag a little bite,

Just one, just one! 

Merely a crumb!

It would be such a delight. 

I haven’t eaten since breakfast, 

Since the soup smelled awful rank,

Oh the perks of working here, 

Ought to put some food into my tank,

Otherwise, how ever will the offices get cleaned? 

Without just a little morsel,

How will the offices ever gleam?

Well, the next day approached,

With the band swinging,

Oh, such emotion! 

And lyrics were played through and through,

To the maestro’s satisfaction.

He had to wonder to himself,

Why his band dared not complain. 

Usually they wouldn’t be so kind,

They’d glare and want him maimed. 

Who told them? 

How could they have known? 

What a special day it was today, 

For him to bare the throne,

For it’s only one day per year,

That this celebration comes around. 

For just one day, dear Sammy could be

The king that wore the crown. 

With lights dimmed in the break room,

People squished and tried to make room,

In various hiding places, 

Only to pop up in SURPRISE! 

What a jubilant celebration,

Oh the feelings and elation, 

And to make matters so much better, 

Jack brought in his famous prize.

But to the band director’s envy, 

Someone had more than plenty

Of the birthday cake his partner

Had made as a surprise!

The janitor flushed crimson,

It seems he might have missed some

Of the criteria he set for himself late last night. 

And so he fled the room in a flash,

And as his legs began to dash, 

He could hear the violent thrash, 

Of a chair being knocked over. 

And with boots pounding on the floorboards,

Coming closer in the corridors,

The custodian heard a scream!

“FRANKS! I’ll skin you alive!”


	2. Poem 2: Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today the Poet talks about the things they remember, whilst casting a little shade towards a few angels, and speaking on their love of their coworkers in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to hear this in audio form? Go to YouTube for closed captioning or Tumblr to support my blog! Thank you so much!
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KqpV6-8U1Vg
> 
> https://inkabelledesigns.tumblr.com/post/625385022364450816/day-2-of-ink-demonth-and-here-we-are-with-a-poem

Who am I? The Poet.

By: Kat Alyst

When I was but a child at school

There was a teacher unlike any other

He wasn’t as stiff as other adults

If anything, he was a brother. 

Such a young one in the faculty ranks,

Yet his boyish face

Spoke to mischief and pranks,

And yet the gleam in his eyes was tender,

He could never be such an offender.

He taught us a great deal of things,

With zest and gumption nigh,

And when he saw my love of poetry,

He dared to take me to the sky.

He gave me the sun and the moon,

He told me the stars were mine to keep,

And in some ways,

Down the line, 

That’s what my boss would use to sweep,

Both myself into his clutches,

And my friends into his hands.

My master into agony,

And to silence all the band.

I can’t remember much anymore. 

I’ve forgotten so much,

How long has it been? 

Can we ever win? 

Will there ever be warmth again? 

I hold onto what I’ve missed,

Whatever the Lord allows me to keep,

And I can remember there was happiness,

Among the creators’ deceit. 

I remember a lyricist

Who’s been missing as of late,

He wore a brilliant hat upon his brow

Oh how he loved that hat.

He was a baker in his spare time,

Not that there was much to spare,

His baklava was to die for, 

As was the softness of his hair. 

Or was that the Prophet that I’m thinking of?

His hair was quite nice too? 

What color was it? 

Blonde, or brown?

For all I know it was blue. 

He was stern and slightly crazed, 

And perfection was his aim, 

Which he came close to,

Not a doubt was to be had about his skills. 

Still, I ponder on the inklings, 

And with those thoughts I feel I’m sinking.

Into a gospel of dismay,

Where an angel sings refrains.

Ah yes, the angels. 

Outright liars are what they are. 

Some are kind, some are two-faced, 

One is vile with her vials. 

I’m afraid I don’t know her,

Nor would I ever want to.

She’s simply a fiend, a blasphemer,

A mere sheep led far astray. 

But my Lord knows my loyalty,

He knows His Poet praises only Him. 

If he may reward the Prophet, 

It feels right to sing along,

They say I sing with psychos,

But they know my power’s strong. 

The liar’s kept me from my past, 

He deceived one and all,

But I shall not be miserable,

No, he cannot make me fall! 

I won’t falter, 

I won’t bend! 

I won’t rot in here nor death!

For this is our second coming,

And I’ll let go of all regrets. 

This is home now, 

Not our prison,

We can make it something grand! 

A centerfold of attractions, 

A place to house the band. 

We want freedom, and we’ll get it,

But until that time draws near,

We’d be wise to make it comfortable,

Since we’re still stuck dying here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This poem was fun to write. It's very "stream of conscious," which I find enjoyable to write. Funny story, I actually started this poem off with somewhat of an anecdote. The teacher that's mentioned at the beginning is based on a student-teacher I had in the fifth grade. He was with us while we were working on our poetry unit, around the time I started getting really into writing, and he was the one that got me to go a little farther. He gave me a sign-up sheet to enter a national poetry competition held by the Library of Congress, and my poem got in! I didn't know it in time to tell him though. All the poems were published into a book, which would later surprise me that Christmas, but that was the year I moved to what would be my home for the next decade. I never got to say thank you or tell him the good news. So Mr. Carol, while I have my doubts that you'll find me out here on a Bendy poetry spree of all things, wherever you are, I hope you're doing well. Thank you so much for encouraging me to do what I love, I wouldn't be where I am without you!
> 
> At any rate, back to the content of this poem. Yes, Poet is very much so on the same wavelength as Sammy with the crazy Bendy worshipping, though slightly less crazy. Part of what inspired me to try this exercise in the first place was Aaron Landon's instagram page. That sounds out of nowhere, but a long time ago, he uploaded this video there of him reciting "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe in Sammy's voice, and it is the most beautiful thing ever. I loved it so much that I wanted to attempt something similar with my own poems. In fact, it's so good, that I'm gonna link it down below so you can hear it in all its glory! 
> 
> Aaron Landon reading "The Raven": https://www.instagram.com/tv/BohxjrSh-jF/?hl=en


	3. Poem 3: Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Today the Poet is a bit high strung, recalling memories of how stressful the deadlines could be back when Joey was more present in their lives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Want to hear this in audio form? Go to YouTube for closed captioning or Tumblr to support my blog! Thank you so much!
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=i7EVVymvge4
> 
> https://inkabelledesigns.tumblr.com/post/625461739567415296/day-3-work-a-short-poem-today-but-sometimes

Terribly Wary of Work

By: Kat Alyst

Click-clack

Tick tack

And on and on it went. 

The melody to which 

All the workers pay their rent.

Mr. Cohen,

Mr. Cohen,

Keep the numbers rolling on,

Mr. Lawrence,

Mr. Lawrence,

Get your band to play along. 

Mr. Flynn 

And Mr. Fain

Keep your heads where they are sane

And dare not tug upon the chain

That hides the rising flame.

For Mr. Drew is smoking

And the workers are all choking,

On concern or on the ink?

I cannot say. 

But from wherever whence we came,

We all shall now remain,

As helpless as a dame

Thanks to his useless quest for fame.

Back to work now,

So that he can play his little game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not much to say on this one, just wanted a slightly more manic sound. Short and sweet, to the point. But just you wait for tomorrow, you're in for a real treat.~

**Author's Note:**

> Many people go for illustrations or fanfiction when it comes to Ink Demonth, which is great, but I've learned from attempting those challenges before that they just aren't for me, and it tends to make me more frustrated or stressed out than it does happy. So this year, because I want to participate, I'm falling back on one of my favorite things from childhood: poetry. I used to love writing poems, and even though I've been away from it for a few years, my work is still as strong as ever with all the writing I've done. So now I get to bring you all a really fun and twisted collection to celebrate the dancing demon we love most! 
> 
> It goes without saying, but please understand that this work is merely fictional and does not reflect my real world views. Obviously I'm a real human being who's just really in love with a videogame about cartoon demons and animation, I don't actually worship Bendy, that would be crazy. I feel the need to say this because I get really into my voice work, and if you'll following along with the recorded versions of this script on YouTube, where I'm playing a character that's a little nuts.


End file.
